


Scorched

by Aini_NuFire



Series: Feathers and Flames [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Castiel Whump, Demon Hunt, Drama, F/M, Family, Gen, Hurt Castiel, Phoenixes, Protective Winchesters (Supernatural), the lance of Michael
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-06 06:14:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15188573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aini_NuFire/pseuds/Aini_NuFire
Summary: Sequel to “Flashpoint” - The discovery of another phoenix sends the Winchester family on a hunt for this long lost descendant of Ryn’s. But is he villain or victim? And will trying to help him cost them their own lives?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> And here we pick up where "Flashpoint" left off. Also, yet another amazing piece of cover art done by 29Pieces. Thank you for that and for beta reading!
> 
> Disclaimer: The boys aren't mine.

 

Ryn hit pause on the laptop's video player for the umpteenth time, freezing the frame on a face she'd been staring at for hours. The quality wasn't great, but it was definitely male, with a sharp jawline and head of mussed, dark hair. The exact color was indistinguishable in the shadows. But his eyes glowed with white static, a telltale sign on an electromagnetic feed that he wasn't human in nature.

She dragged the counter back a few seconds and then hit play again. A blackened husk stumbled out a back door, the orange glow of flames illuminating the alley. No one should have survived burns like that, let alone been able to walk. Yet as milliseconds ticked away, glowing cinders crawled up his arms and across his neck to around his face. Muscle and sinew melded back together before blending into unblemished skin. The figure looked up, and Ryn paused the video again.

It was unmistakeable. Walking out of a blaze like that and regenerating. But Ryn was still struggling to wrap her head around it. For half an age, she'd thought she was the only one of her kind left. Her son Edan had died centuries ago, and the only other phoenix in known existence had perished in 1861. Killed by the Winchesters, ironically.

To discover yet another one out there in the world…

She backed up the video and watched it again.

"Ryn," Sam's voice intruded, and she startled as she looked up to find him standing across the study table from her. "How many times are you gonna watch that?"

She shook off her stupor. "I don't know. Until I find something that will tell me who this is or where he went?"

Sam gave her a sympathetic grimace. "Pretty sure that's asking a lot for a crappy security feed that lasts less than a minute."

Ryn sighed and finally pushed away from the laptop. "I know. I just…I can hardly believe it. There's a phoenix out there, and I never knew. I'm the Alpha. Aren't I supposed to know these things?"

But she hadn't known about Elias Finch, either, and it rankled. Were there other phoenixes out there? All the lore and accounts from hunters and Men of Letters said they were rare, but maybe they were just good at hiding.

Sam took a seat and leaned his arms across the table. "I don't know. The Alpha vampire is able to sense his 'children.' But there's a direct blood connection there, no matter how far removed."

"There's a blood connection with all my descendants."

"Yeah, I know. I guess I just meant…Eve was able to sense all monsters, too, communicate with them telepathically. But she cut you out of that." He shrugged. "So maybe that kind of psychic connection isn't part of you like it is for others…of her lineage."

Ryn pursed her mouth. That wasn't entirely accurate—she'd had enough 'psychic connection' with Edan to have felt it when he died. That sense hadn't extended to Elias Finch, though. Either it didn't exist past the second generation…or it had somehow broken the moment Edan died. Ryn's throat tightened at the memory of the anguish she'd felt then.

She folded her hands in her lap. "Yeah, maybe."

The bunker door grated open, drawing their gazes to the war room. They both got up wordlessly and made their way over just as Dean, Castiel, and Amy were descending the stairs. Ryn gave them all a quick once-over; though they'd finished the ghost case with the enenra, it had apparently been a close call.

Ryn met Castiel at the bottom of the steps and searched his eyes for the status of his grace. She was relieved to see that it was intact and that his wings had been healed.

"Are you okay?" she asked anyway.

"Fine," he assured her.

Ryn turned to Amala, who was looking thoroughly chastised over the events of the hunt. "And you?"

Amy nodded. "I'm fine," she said quietly.

Ryn gazed at her in sympathy. Amy had just learned the hard way that going off on one's own was never a good idea, no matter how noble her intentions. Ryn was just thankful it was a lesson they'd all get to live with.

"Better than fine," Dean spoke up. "She roasted that ghost like it was a Fourth of July parade."

Castiel furrowed his brow. "I'm not sure that analogy works, Dean. But, yes, Amala proved herself quite capable when dealing with the vengeful spirit."

Ryn nodded. She knew Castiel had already spoken with their daughter about her misguided decision recently, so there was no reason to rehash it.

Dean dropped his gear bag on the map table. "Well, I need a nap and some food. Not necessarily in that order."

"How about food first?" Ryn suggested. "Sam and I actually have something to share with you all, something we found while looking into the restaurant fire. Grab something and meet us in the library."

Dean flicked a questioning look between them. "Alright."

He headed off to the kitchen while Castiel and Amy followed Ryn and Sam into the library.

"What'd you find?" Amy asked.

"We'll wait for Dean," Ryn replied, pacing around the table instead of taking a seat like the others. She was feeling antsy, eager to act on this startling information she'd been presented with, but unsure where to even start.

Castiel canted a perplexed and slightly concerned look at her, but didn't prod and instead waited for Dean to join them, which he did five minutes later with a sandwich plate.

"Alright, what's with the family meeting?" Dean asked as he slid into a chair and lifted the sandwich to his mouth.

Ryn took a deep breath. "There's another phoenix out there."

Dean paused before he could even take a bite. "Come again?"

Castiel leaned forward. "You said this had to do with the restaurant fire."

Ryn nodded carefully and looked to Sam.

"I found a security camera feed across the street from the back alley," he picked up. "I don't think the cops ever thought to look for it after they wrote off the fire as suicide bomber." Sam grabbed the laptop with the file and turned the screen around so they could all watch. Ryn didn't need to come around; she had the entire thing memorized by now.

Amy's eyes widened. "Did he just…?"

"Rise from the ashes?" Sam finished. "Looks that way. Which is why we think he's a phoenix. I mean, there are a handful of really powerful witches who might be able to do that, but the eyes kind of rule that out."

Dean slumped back in his chair, sandwich forgotten. "Alright, so we have another hunt."

"This isn't a hunt," Ryn interjected.

He quirked a confused look at her. "Then what is it?"

"I want to  _find_  him."

Dean frowned. "And then what?"

Ryn stared at him in disbelief. "Well, he is a long lost descendant of mine. I thought I'd reach out."

He held up a hand. "I get that. But he vaporized seven people."

"We don't know what happened that night at the restaurant," she argued. "His presence there could have been unrelated."

Sam threw her a startled glance, which she ignored. Yes, she was the one who initially suspected that the restaurant fire had a supernatural origin, and a phoenix's energy  _would_  burn hot enough to have caused the damage they saw in the crime scene photos. But that didn't automatically condemn  _this_  phoenix; it only confirmed there was at least one supernatural player that night. They needed to discover the whole story before passing judgement.

Sam cleared his throat. "Look, either way, the first thing we have to do is figure out how to find this guy. Because we don't really have anything to go on."

"I'll go back to the area," Ryn said. "Maybe I'll find a trace or something. And I'll take that picture to show around."

"Long shot much?" Dean muttered.

"I can't just let this go," she rejoined. "So unless you have a better idea…"

He sighed and raised his palms in capitulation.

Castiel stood up. "I'll go with you."

Ryn released some of her tension, and gave him a small nod.

"Want me to come?" Amy spoke up.

Ryn smiled softly. "No, that's okay. We're just gonna look around. Besides, you just finished a hunt."

She looked disappointed, but didn't argue.

The printer in the back made a grinding noise, and Sam went over to grab the outgoing sheet off the tray. He came back and handed it to Ryn—a print of the screenshot blown up to focus on the face. It had pixelated some, but was still somewhat recognizable.

"Good luck," he said sympathetically.

Ryn nodded, and tucked the photo inside the inner fold of her jacket. Then she took Castiel's hand as he spread his wings for flight.

* * *

Castiel landed outside the Japanese restaurant that had been the phoenix's last known location. The trail was obviously cold by now, but it was the best place to at least start.

Ryn's gaze roved over the charred skeletal remains of the building, then to the alley off to the side. Wordlessly, she walked toward one of the remaining walls and reached out to touch the scorched flame marks seared into the bricks.

Castiel remained silent as a myriad of emotions chased each other across her face. The only reason she and Sam had started investigating the cause of the fire was because they'd suspected it to be supernatural in origin, and despite Ryn's earlier protest that they couldn't say for sure the phoenix had caused it…Castiel knew better. And so did she.

But he also understood how important this was to Ryn. He remembered her profound loneliness when they'd first met in Egypt ages ago, a creature cast out by any who knew of her nature, forced to hide among humans in order to have any semblance of companionship. To find out she wasn't actually the last of her kind had to be a lot to process. She probably felt some responsibility for this phoenix, too. How lonely must his own existence be? But did isolation breed resentment as it had done with others, like Edan and Elias Finch? As Castiel gazed at the wreckage, part of him feared what they would find—and how they might be forced to handle it.

Ryn stepped away from the ruins and turned back to him. "I suppose we should try nearby bars," she said, pulling out the photo.

Castiel nodded. It seemed as good a place as any.

There was a bar two blocks away from the restaurant, so they went there first. At this time of day, it wasn't open yet, but the employees were getting ready for the late afternoon crowd. They showed the picture to the bartender and bouncer, but neither recognized him.

They then made stops at the surrounding storefronts, but every person they talked to quickly shook their heads in the negative with one glance at the picture. Castiel could tell Ryn was getting discouraged. This wasn't the best approach to begin with, but he had wanted to be supportive.

After coming out of the last shop within a three-block radius of the Japanese restaurant, Ryn shook her head and stuffed the picture back in her pocket. "This was a fool's errand."

Castiel shifted his weight. "We can keep going, though. We have time." They could knock on every single door in this town if she wanted to.

Ryn gave him a dry look, then sighed. "Do you think I should let this go?"

"I know it's important to you," he replied. "Family is family."

She was quiet for a moment. "And if it turns out he killed those people in that restaurant?"

"We don't know what happened," he said, repeating her words from earlier. "I think the least we can do is find out the truth. And then…go from there."

Ryn grimaced. "Right." She hung her head. "Either way, I guess, he's my responsibility."

"Ours," Castiel corrected. They were partners in life, and everything that came with it.

The corner of her mouth tugged upward slightly. "Okay, then, what's our next move?"

Castiel's phone started ringing.

"Hold that thought," he said as he reached into his pocket to pull it out. "Hello, Sam."

"Hey, find anything?" Sam asked, though it sounded as though it was out of politeness rather than expecting an affirmative answer.

"Not yet," Castiel said.

"Okay, well, there was a major fire a few counties over. Might not be connected…but the report said the blaze was pretty intense."

Castiel's mouth turned down. That did sound pretty thin. But then again, so was their current method. "Alright, send me the location."

Sam relayed it, and then there was a muffled voice in the background. "Uh, Dean says…he and I will meet you there." He hung up.

Castiel held back a sigh. He knew Dean meant well. But sometimes the older Winchester could be…abrasive in his caring.

He looked at Ryn, who had a pinch between her brows.

"Another fire," she repeated. "But nothing to indicate it's anything?"

Castiel canted his head in a shrug. "No. But we can check it out. And if it is nothing, we can come back here and pick up where we left off."

Ryn's shoulders sagged, and he knew she realized the near-futility of both approaches. "Yeah, okay."

Castiel took her hand and flew to the secondary location. He had to veer away to a side alley when he realized first and second responders were still on scene. The structure was completely demolished—windows shattered and framed in charcoal streaks of flame, the roof imploded inwards, and debris cast out into the street several yards away from the building, as though a bomb had gone off. Smoke still rose in lazy tendrils from various orifices, and in the back firefighters worked to douse the last of the flames.

Castiel glanced at Ryn, whose mouth had pressed into a bloodless line as she gazed at the destruction. He frowned, and placed a hand on her arm. "Ryn?"

"I hear the echoes," she whispered. "It's like screaming."

Castiel whipped his gaze back to the building, focusing his senses. He didn't hear what Ryn did—adding credence to the belief that the phoenix  _was_  behind this event. Also, while the energy signatures had significantly died down over the past few hours since the fire had started, he detected a subtle note of something  _other_.

His heart sank. They'd found a lead, but it couldn't have been a worse one.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean pulled the Impala up along the curb outside the police line that'd been erected around the perimeter of the burned down warehouse. The news had reported it was a massive blaze, but seeing the destruction hit home just how much so. No wonder it had taken hours for firefighters to put it out.

Sam was looking at his phone. "Okay, so, the fire chief just reported that there were no casualties."

"Maybe because there was nothing left to find."

Sam shot him a bitch-face. "There's no evidence this is related to a phoenix."

Dean just shrugged. He didn't believe in coincidences.

"How would we know for sure?" Amy spoke up from the backseat. She'd refused to stay behind once Dean had decided to join Cas and Ryn on their hunt. Or, 'search,' whatever.

He didn't have an answer for that, and so simply turned the engine off and got out of the car. Sam and Amy followed. Dean scanned the area for Cas and Ryn, and spotted them down near an alley that was out of the way. He made his way over, Sam and Amy right behind him.

"Hey," he greeted. "Anything?"

Ryn exchanged a hesitant look with Cas. "Maybe," she said. "I sense…something. I think- I think a phoenix was here. But other than that, it's nothing to go on."

Dean arched a questioning brow at Cas, who just gave a subtle head cant in response. So, another dead end. Maybe they should look into other major fires across the country over the years. Two within a few weeks suggested an underlying pattern. Maybe if they could retrace this dude's steps, they could predict where he'd go next.

Dean's mouth pressed into a thin line as he looked back at Ryn. He knew this wasn't the news she wanted to hear. But in regards to the whole 'not every supernatural being is a monster' thing, she really was one of the rare exceptions. There were plenty of 'monsters' out there that were real bad guys.

Sam's gaze drifted over their shoulders, and he started to nudge past them. Dean turned as his brother headed down the alley toward where a homeless man was huddled near some dumpsters.

"Excuse me," Sam called. "Mind if we ask you a few questions?"

The man gave Sam an unimpressed once-over. "You ain't cops."

"FBI," Dean said, coming over with his badge. "And we just wanna know if you saw anything before the fire broke out. This is your turf, right?"

The man narrowed his eyes. "I didn't see nothin'."

Cas came up behind Dean and held out two twenty-dollar bills. "You keep to your own business, I understand. But you also have to be aware of your surroundings in order to protect yourself. We think this fire may have been set intentionally. Please, anything you can tell us could be of help."

The guy regarded the money with both wariness and yearning. He took it from Cas's hand swiftly and held it close to his chest like it was manna from Heaven. "The warehouse is usually empty," he said in a low voice. "But sometimes addicts use it. Weird druggies hopped up on stuff that changes their eye color."

Dean straightened. "To black?"

He nodded nervously, and cast a glance up and down the alley. "I steer clear."

"Were there black-eyed people when the fire started?" Sam asked.

He bobbed his head. "Two. And a third guy I'd never seen before."

Ryn stepped forward then, pulling out the photo Sam had printed for her earlier. "This him?"

The guy squinted at the dark and somewhat blurry image for a long moment. "Yeah. Yeah, that's him. He went in a few minutes after the first two." He flicked his gaze toward the warehouse. "None of 'em came back out."

That he'd seen. Chances were Mr. Combustion Dude had walked out with a brand new skin.

"Thanks," Dean said, and their group headed back out to the street. "So, sounds like this phoenix decided to blow up another building."

"A building with demons," Amy pointed out. "Isn't that technically a good thing?"

"Not if innocent people get caught in the crossfire," Sam put in. "Destroying an entire building to take out two demons is overkill."

"Do you think the people in the restaurant could have been demons?" she asked.

"No way to know, really," Dean replied. But he doubted it. And he didn't know how to explain the presence of demons here, but it was probably more luck that this fire hadn't killed anyone else. And, again, that they knew of. There was no telling if there'd been any homeless people squatting in that building who'd been vaporized, never to be identified.

He shook his head in mounting frustration. "We can't go around chasing fires trying to find this guy. We need to get ahead of him."

"How?" Sam asked.

"What about a tracking spell?" Cas spoke up. "If he truly is a phoenix, then Ryn is his Alpha. Perhaps we could use her blood to cast a locator spell."

Ryn perked up at the suggestion. "We can try that."

Dean shrugged. "Alright, then. Let's go."

* * *

Because of the growing sense of urgency over the situation, they ended up calling Rowena for such a tracking spell. At some point over the years, she'd stopped charging them for that kind of thing, as long as they didn't go advertising it to anyone else. And the witch had once said something to Ryn about reds needing to stick together.

Which was why Ryn made the call and request, and Castiel flew her to a meet-up with Rowena to perform the spell. A few hours after that, they were back with the others and driving into a town not too many miles from the warehouse fire. Ryn tried not to fidget in the backseat of the Impala. She had every faith in Rowena's tracking spell, but worried the phoenix would have moved on by the time they reached their destination.

She could feel Castiel's and Amy's eyes on her from the backseat too, and kept hers resolutely facing out the window. Part of her was glad, and touched, by her family's support, but another part of her—a part silenced in recent years yet still ingrained from ages of isolation—wanted to do this on her own.

Dean pulled the car to a stop in front of an old abandoned shoe factory, and the five of them wordlessly climbed out. Ryn narrowed her eyes as Dean and Sam automatically reached to check their guns.

"Could we not go in like hunters?" she said pointedly.

"We don't know what's in there," Dean argued.

Ryn snorted. "We rarely do. Just…let me take the lead on this, alright?"

Dean slipped his gun back into his jacket and held his hands up. "Okay."

Ryn could tell he wasn't thrilled, but she nevertheless headed for the building. Most of the windows were boarded up and there was graffiti on the walls. The shoe company's signage had faded lettering and some obscene tags spray painted across it. It was the kind of property…monsters, liked to hang out in.

Ryn found a door that wasn't locked and nudged it open. The rusted hinges squealed, basically announcing their presence. She grimaced. This wasn't a hunt, though, and she wasn't trying to catch their quarry off guard.

Taking a deep breath, she slipped inside the factory. Most of the main floor was empty, save for some broken conveyor belts and wooden palettes for boxed merchandise. Everything was silent. Ryn's heart was beating with anticipation as she scanned the area.

Castiel suddenly pulled up short, eyes narrowing on the stacked palettes. Ryn followed his gaze and caught a flash of movement before a figure was scrambling out and aiming a gun at them.

"Whoa, whoa." Dean instantly drew his and had it trained on the guy, as did Sam. "Easy, buddy."

Ryn was too stunned to react, and could only gape at the man standing before her. He was tall and scrawny, with mussed brown hair and scruffy facial growth. He looked half mad, but in those wide and harried eyes was also an unmistakeable spark.

"Back off," he snapped, waving the gun back and forth between each of them.

Ryn raised her palms. "We're not here to fight. My name is Aderyn. I'm…" She faltered, having never had to say it before in this capacity. "I'm a phoenix. The Alpha phoenix."

The man flicked a chaotic gaze at her, then away, then back. "What?" he sputtered.

"I'm like you," she said carefully.

He shifted his weight. "You're lying."

Ryn took a slow step forward and held her hand out, palm facing up. A ball of flame whooshed to life in her hand. She held it there for a long moment, then closed her fist to extinguish it.

He continued to regard her apprehensively, but also with confusion. "Another phoenix…"

"The first," Ryn put in.

"I- I never knew there were others…" His eyes suddenly hardened as he snapped his gaze to the Winchesters. "Those two are human. And the other two…they shine differently." He tightened his hold on his weapon.

"Whoa, hey," Ryn raised her voice. "We're not here to hurt you."

"Then why did you come with guns?" he spat.

"Maybe because you're holding one on us," Dean replied nonchalantly.

Ryn almost rolled her eyes. "Can we all agree to put them down?" She shot a pointed look over her shoulder.

A muscle in Sam's jaw ticked as he flicked an uncertain glance at Dean, who was staring down the other phoenix with cold intent. Ryn wanted to smack him.

Instead, she turned back to the phoenix. "What's your name?"

He eyed them guardedly, but started to slowly lower his gun. "Elijah."

"Elijah," she repeated. "That's Sam and Dean, and this is Castiel and Amy. They're angels."

"Half angel," Amy spoke up. "I'm half phoenix too," she added with a tentative smile.

Elijah furrowed his brow at her, then flicked a startled look at Ryn. "I see," he said, finally sounding and looking calmer. "And you're…Aderyn."

"Call me Ryn." She debated taking a step closer, but decided to hold off on that just yet. "It's nice to meet you."

His eyes narrowed a fraction in suspicion. "How did you just happen to find me?"

"We only recently became aware of your existence," Ryn explained. "I honestly thought there were no other phoenixes left, but when we learned about you, we used my blood in a tracking spell. You are descended from my line, after all."

Elijah visibly tensed. "You were tracking me? Why?"

Ryn hesitated at the accusing tone. "Because you're not alone."

"And there's a little matter of the warehouse you blew up today," Dean spoke up. "And the Japanese restaurant that burned down and killed seven people. Care to explain what happened there?"

Ryn's jaw tightened.  _Dean_.

Elijah's eyes flashed briefly. "I didn't do it on purpose," he ground out.

Ryn's heart sank, her suspicions now confirmed. She'd known, deep down, though, from the start.

"What happened?" Castiel asked, more kindly than Dean had.

Elijah looked him up and down appraisingly, and then a haunted look filled his eyes. "I was…held captive and experimented on for decades. My very being torn apart and dissected, every death, every resurrection, a reset for my captors to start all over." His throat bobbed and he looked away, voice dropping. "You can't imagine anything so excruciating."

Ryn's breath caught in her throat. She'd experienced her own death only a handful of times, and they had been far from pleasant. To die over and over again, to be tortured to the brink and brought back for more…she was horrified that anyone had to go through that.

"So, what?" Sam spoke up. "Those fires were revenge?"

Elijah shot him a sharp look. "No. The ones who did this to me are far away. But their…" He rolled his shoulder. "Their experiments left me…changed. Now, even the smallest injury triggers an explosive rebirth. I can't control it, and I can't stop it. Those fires were an unintentional byproduct of that."

Dean's expression was still hard. "So, at the restaurant, what'd you do, get a splinter from some chopsticks?"

Ryn turned around to shoot a scowl at him.  _Would you knock it off?_

Dean just shrugged his eyebrows unapologetically.

Elijah's eyes turned flinty. "Is that the real reason you tracked me down? To put me on trial and condemn me for actions that were beyond my control? You know nothing  _about me_." His voice rose an octave with each syllable, and Ryn quickly raised her hands in a gesture of peace.

"No,  _no_. That is not the reason I—we—tracked you down." She grimaced. "But the restaurant fire was how we found out about you. There was security video of you emerging from the fire and regenerating."

Elijah's eyes widened in alarm.

"The authorities didn't see it," she quickly assured him. "They hadn't even looked there, and once we had it, Sam deleted the original from the server." She nodded to Sam.

"Look," Ryn went on, "I'm sorry for what happened to you. I can't even imagine what all you went through. But you escaped, and you're here. And we found each other. I swear I'll do everything I can to help fix this."

"We all will," Amy chimed in.

Elijah held himself stiffly, guarded gaze flicking between each of them. He cleared his throat. "I- I'm already on the trail of something that can help me. That's why I went to Tanaka's restaurant. He was a dealer in supernatural artifacts."

Ryn blinked. Guess that explained the accounting discrepancies from their background search.

Elijah let out a frustrated sound. "But he couldn't acquire the item for me because a demon has it. A demon who apparently isn't willing to part with anything in his collection." He shot a sharp look at Dean and said pointedly, "When I tried to insist Tanaka at least give me the demon's location so I could approach him, the man refused and attacked me with a letter opener.  _That_  was how the fire started."

Dean just gazed at him blandly like he wasn't buying it.

"And the warehouse?" Castiel spoke up.

Elijah lifted his chin. "I was trying to get information from some demons in the area. And I did, but they tried to double cross me." His eyes darkened. "Joke's on them now, isn't it?"

Ryn's mouth turned down at that, but the flash of darkness was gone just as quickly as she'd glimpsed it. And, really, could she blame the guy for some PTSD?

"Do you know where this demon is now?" she asked.

Elijah nodded. "I was regrouping before I make my way to Burkin County."

That wasn't far from here.

Ryn cast a look at the others, not sure how they would feel about this. Well, she had a good guess, but that wasn't going to stop her.

"We'll help you," she said.

Elijah looked taken aback, then skeptical, then unsure. "You…will?"

"Yes." She glanced over her shoulder at Dean and Sam, who were exchanging their own silent looks. They didn't have to come if they didn't want to.

"Yeah, sure," Dean said blithely.

Of course his overprotective tendencies wouldn't let him sit this one out.

"Hunting demons is kinda our thing."

Ryn was suddenly glad in a horrible way that Elijah had been imprisoned long enough to not have heard of the Winchester brothers. That would have made gaining his trust nigh impossible.

Elijah continued to flick nervous looks between them. "Al-alright." He still looked on Dean with suspicion, and Dean's expression was still hard like granite.

Ryn let out a tense breath. This was going to be fun.


	3. Chapter 3

Amy had never endured such a tense car ride in her life, and kinda wished she'd offered to just fly them all one by one to their destination. Not that Dean would have been okay leaving his Baby behind at that old shoe factory. She wondered if she and her dad could have flown the Impala together…

Not that it mattered now, as they had finally arrived. And Amy hadn't minded being squished up in the front seat between her uncles, nor did her parents seem particularly bothered by Elijah sitting in the backseat with them, but she definitely wasn't blind to the tautness in Dean's shoulders or the way he kept flicking hard looks in the rearview mirror. She didn't understand his barely veiled hostility. Yes, Elijah had killed some innocent people in the restaurant fire, but he'd explained what happened and it wasn't his fault. He was a victim, and needed their help.

Dean stopped the Impala at a park. "So where's this demon supposedly live?"

Elijah pulled a folded scrap of paper from his pocket and passed it forward. "This is the address I got off the demons. He keeps to himself and every demon knows to leave him alone."

Dean took the note. "Doesn't sound very demony."

"That's just what they told me," Elijah said tightly. "Apparently he also spends his evenings night fishing."

"Definitely doesn't sound like a demon," Dean muttered.

"We should do some recon," Castiel said.

"Me and Sam can handle that," Dean responded before anyone else could. "Less noticeable if the whole gang doesn't go."

Amy flicked a discomfited look at the backseat, but neither of her parents seemed perturbed by basically being sidelined. Amy decided to stay with them instead of asking to go with on the reconnaissance.

The backdoors opened and the three in the back exited. Amy simply gave her wings a small flap to get outside so Sam wouldn't have to let her out. Then she watched her uncles drive away, leaving the four of them in the otherwise empty park.

Elijah followed the Impala with tight lines around his eyes. "You work…closely, with the humans," he enunciated carefully.

"We're a motley crew," Ryn replied. "And a family."

"Hm."

There was a picnic table nearby, so the four of them headed over to take a seat and wait for Dean and Sam to return.

Ryn shifted on the bench slightly. "Do you- who was your sire?"

Elijah didn't respond right away. Then, "His name was Edan."

Her breath hitched.

"Did you know him?" Elijah asked.

"He was my son."

Amy watched the emotions on her mother's face, simultaneously vulnerable yet guarded. Ryn never talked about Amy's half brother, who had lived and died centuries before she had even been born. All Amy knew was that he'd existed at one point, and what his name was. And that he'd gone his own way, basically turning his back on their mother. Amy couldn't fathom it.

"I didn't know he'd had children," Ryn said in a soft voice. "Edan and I…we were estranged for a long time. Were…were you there when he was killed?"

Elijah's expression was carefully closed off. "I didn't know he had died. My father abandoned me at a young age when a vampire clan invaded our village."

Ryn reeled back like the news had been a physical blow. Amy looked to her dad for cues as to what they should do or say. His eyes held empathy, but he remained quiet, just watching. So Amy held her tongue too.

"I'm sorry," Ryn whispered. "If I'd known about you, I would have come…"

Elijah's gaze briefly flicked to Amy, then back. "Well, we all are born to our lot in life, aren't we?"

Amy nipped at her bottom lip, pained by the vast history of emotional anguish she couldn't hope to comprehend—or alleviate. "You have family now," she interjected. "You're not alone anymore. And we'll do everything we can to help you."

Her mom gave her a grateful smile that made Amy beam with pride on the inside. Elijah looked flummoxed.

"What is this artifact you're after?" Castiel asked.

Elijah shrugged. "I don't know exactly. I was only told by a witch that it was what I needed."

Castiel furrowed his brow. "Are you planning to return to the witch with it?"

Amy could guess what he was thinking, that delivering a powerful artifact to a witch was dangerous. Her parents didn't even fully trust Rowena, despite sometimes calling on her for assistance. She was what they called a dubious ally.

"We can help figure out how to use it," Amy said enthusiastically. "The Men of Letters archive has every magical artifact mentioned somewhere in its database." She gave Elijah an encouraging smile. "Once we get it, we can look it up and how to use it, and find you that cure."

Elijah stared at her like a deer caught in headlights, and Amy's heart gave a pang that he was so unused to anyone offering to help him.

"Men…of Letters?" he repeated stiltedly.

"They have the greatest collection of supernatural lore on the planet," Ryn explained. "Amy's right; it'd be safer if we research the artifact ourselves. We can go to the bunker after we finish here." Her tone softened. "I bet you haven't stopped running long enough to truly rest anywhere."

His jaw ticked. "No." He abruptly stood up. "Excuse me."

Amy blinked in confusion as he strode into a wooded section of the park.

Her mother set her elbows on the picnic table and rested her head in her hands, letting out a long exhale.

"It wasn't your fault," Castiel spoke up gently.

"I know." Ryn looked up. "I know I didn't intentionally abandon him, but maybe if I had tried harder to find Edan after he left…"

"Edan didn't want to be found." Castiel reached across the table and took her hands in his. "You were all hunted for so long."

"I wasn't captured and tortured for years."

"That doesn't mean your own life wasn't hard. Ryn, you can't blame yourself for not knowing better. We both know that."

She hung her head and whispered, "I know."

Amy bit her lip, feeling like an eavesdropper who knew enough context to follow the conversation but not really having a place in it. She wanted to do something, wanted to make it better, but she wasn't sure how. Except to do whatever they could to help Elijah now. Maybe it wouldn't make up for the horrors he'd endured—maybe there wasn't anything Ryn needed to make up for—but saving people was what their family did.

* * *

Sam peered through a thin covering of branches toward the house where their demon resided. He and Dean were staying a good distance away in a wooded area, yet close enough they got a decent look at the target—an older gentleman with graying hair and beard. Who was currently puttering around his yard pulling weeds.

Dean let out a soft snort. "Anything seem off about all this? A demon who gardens and night fishes?"

Sam shrugged. "Sure, it's not typical demon behavior. But didn't Cain keep bees? Doesn't seem that far of a stretch."

Dean grumbled something under his breath.

"What?"

"I don't trust Elijah."

Sam pressed his lips into a thin line. Yeah, that much was obvious. "Because he's a phoenix?"

Dean shot him an affronted scowl. "Because he  _killed_  seven people, Sam."

"It was an accident."

"So he says."

Sam shook his head in vexation. He wasn't going to get anywhere trying to debate it. The root of the problem was that no matter how much they'd learned differently over the years, Dean sometimes still fell into old habits of prejudice and mistrust when it came to outsiders—who more often than not happened to be those of the not-human variety.

"Don't you think we should give him the benefit of the doubt? For Ryn's sake at least?" Sam pressed. "Guy was held captive and tortured for years. Imagine if that had been her." He swallowed. "Or Amy."

Dean's eyes flashed darkly.

"I'm just sayin'," Sam went on quickly. "We shouldn't judge. And it seems like Elijah wants our help."

Dean made a disgruntled noise in his throat. "Yeah, help stealing some magical object from a demon who gardens. If this turns out to be a scam, I'm gonna say 'I told you so.'"

Sam huffed. Whatever.

He went back to watching their target, which was getting really tedious the longer the guy spent in the garden. There was also a fishing pole leaning against the wall on the front porch that they could see, confirming the whole night fishing bit. Sam might have expected that the demons lied when Elijah questioned them, but the night fishing detail seemed too specific, and unless they had a prearranged decoy agreed upon to use, there had to be  _something_  here to find.

A crow glided down from a nearby tree and landed on the fence. There was a tomato planter a few feet from it, with plump red fruit on the vine, and the bird hopped closer to it.

The man in the garden straightened and turned toward the crow. He had his back to the Winchesters, so Sam couldn't see what he was doing, though he didn't appear to be moving or shouting at the bird. Yet in the next moment, the crow started flapping and squawking frantically like it was suddenly being attacked, and it lurched into the air to fly away. The man turned back to his weed pulling.

Sam's brows rose sharply. "Okay, demon or not, that's not normal."

Dean's mouth pressed into a grim line. "Yeah. Let's go."

They headed back through the grove to where they'd left the Impala, and then drove back to the park where the others were waiting.

Cas, Ryn, and Amy were sitting at a picnic table, but there was no sign of Elijah.

Dean threw his arms out in question when he exited the car. "Where is he?"

"Taking a walk," Cas replied. "Did you find anything?"

"Well, aside from the gardening and fishing pole, there's definitely something supernatural about him," Sam answered. "Scared a bird shitless just by looking at it."

"So what's the plan?" Amy asked a tad eagerly.

"Wait for cover of nightfall," Dean said. "Hopefully tonight's one of his nights to go fishing. We'll go in, get the thing, and get out."

Amy quirked a confused look. "We're not going to kill the demon?"

Dean's jaw ticked, and Sam arched a brow at him. It was kinda what they did…

Dean shook his head. "We won't be doing anything if Elijah flew the coop. He's the only reason we're out here."

"Dean," Cas chided lightly.

"I didn't fly the coop," Elijah's voice interrupted as he emerged from behind some trees. His expression was tight and posture rigid as he slowly approached them. "So you found the demon?"

Dean shrugged. "Yeah. If he goes fishing tonight, we can go in and find the artifact. What's it look like?"

"I don't have time to fully describe it to you," Elijah said curtly. "It'll be quicker if I just look for it myself."

Sam frowned. "We agreed to help. More sets of eyes are better than one."

"Do you know how long the demon will be gone fishing?" Elijah rejoined. "If we are to do this, we'll need to kill it. If we don't and it finds out we stole from it…it will come after every last one of us until we're all dead."

"You sound pretty sure of that," Dean said, eyeing him shrewdly.

Elijah's expression hardened. "Other demons are afraid of this one for a reason."

"Why?" Sam asked. That part didn't actually make sense to him, unless this demon was like a Knight of Hell or something. But there weren't any more of those around.

"I don't know," the phoenix said somewhat snippily. "That wasn't one of my more pressing questions when I was fighting for my life."

"Alright," Ryn said, standing up before things could escalate. "Elijah's right; we don't know how much time we'll have to search the premises, and a valuable artifact could be hidden anywhere. Our best bet is to set a trap and deal with the demon if we don't find the item before he comes back."

Sam glanced between Dean and Cas. It wasn't the best plan, but they'd had worse. And between the five of them, they could take out one demon.

"Okay," he said. "Let's gear up."

It was nearing dusk when they headed back toward the demon's house, which was out among a bunch of farmland and therefore isolated. Dean parked a ways down the road and stashed the Impala behind some large shrubs. They grabbed their duffel bags full of weapons and crept their way through the grove toward the house, stopping at the tree line.

Cas squinted at the rickety structure. "It doesn't appear to be warded."

Sam nodded. One less thing to worry about, as their presence wouldn't trip any alarms.

There was a squeak of a screen door in the quiet gloaming, and the guy from the garden earlier stepped onto the porch, fishing pole in hand. Cas narrowed his eyes.

"Definitely demon," he murmured.

Sam exchanged a look with Dean. Well, the confirmation was good to have.

With fishing pole and wicker basket in hand, the demon started down the steps, the echo of a whistled tune gradually receding as he headed down the road away from them, toward the pond. Guess this was it.

"Everyone clear on the plan?" Ryn asked.

"We set up shop in the living room," Dean replied. "Wait for the demon to come home. When he does, I'll pop him with a devil's trap bullet."

"I'll finish him off with the demon blade," Sam said.

"And Ryn and I will wait at the back in case he comes in that way," Cas concluded.

"That is, unless Pyro here finds what he's looking for fast," Dean added.

Elijah's eyes narrowed. "You don't think you're prepared enough to handle one demon?"

Dean's expression remained neutral, but Sam saw the steel in his gaze.

"What about me?" Amy spoke up.

Dean turned to her. "Keep a lookout. And no hero stuff."

She rolled her eyes, but didn't argue, and stayed put as the rest of them moved in on the target.


	4. Chapter 4

Castiel stood on the back porch, senses peeled against the encroaching night. A full moon hung in the sky, washing the vista in a soft white aura. Ryn and Elijah had gone inside the backdoor, and Castiel could hear their slightly muffled voices from within.

"Are you sure you don't want help looking?" Ryn asked.

"I'm fine."

There was a creak of a door and then silence. Castiel cast one last look around the woodland and went inside. Ryn was standing in a small kitchen, expression pinched. She glanced over at his entrance.

"Elijah went down to the basement," she informed him quietly.

"You just have to give him time," he said. "He was held captive and tortured for years; it's understandable he'd have trouble trusting anyone."

"I know. I just wish there was more I could do."

Castiel nodded in understanding. He knew all too well how difficult it was to try helping someone who didn't necessarily want it. Who might be afraid to accept it. "You're doing what you can."

Ryn's lips thinned. "I haven't asked him who did it. If they're still alive. It's possible he killed them all in a resurrection, and that's how he escaped at all."

Yes, that did seem the most likely explanation.

"One issue at a time," Castiel said. "First we help fix his resurrections, and then we can address some of the other ramifications of his captivity."

Ryn let out a long breath, and nodded just as her phone started ringing. She hurriedly fished it out and answered. "Amy? What is it?"

"He's coming back!" their daughter's harried voice carried over the speaker.

Castiel stiffened. Ryn spun toward the door set in the back of the kitchen and yanked it open.

"Elijah, we need to go!"

"I need more time!"

She shot a frantic look at Castiel, and he dropped his angel blade into his hand.

"Sam, Dean," he called. "Get ready."

In the adjoining living room, Dean quickly covered the recently painted devil's trap with the rug. Ryn darted in to grab her katana from the weapons duffel before returning to the kitchen. Sam crouched down by the front door with the demon blade in hand, and Dean took up position in the kitchen doorway, gun aimed and ready. As they all fell silent in preparation, a high-pitched, lilting whistle began to echo from down the road. Castiel centered himself as the sound drew closer, followed by heavy footsteps coming up the steps. The door creaked open.

A gunshot cracked the air and cut off the whistling. But the demon didn't stagger or even cry out. In fact, when Castiel peeked around the archway, the demon calmly set his fishing pole against the wall and turned toward Dean.

"You mind explainin' why you broke into my house?" he said.

Dean fired a second time, again with no result.

"I know it wasn't just to ruin the evening catch," the demon continued, and kicked the rug over, revealing the devil's trap. "Hunters." He actually chuckled.

Dean squeezed the trigger and fired several more times, each bullet ripping through flesh and muscle, but the demon kept stalking toward him, heedless of the devil's trap—which also appeared to have no effect on him.

Sam jumped up from behind and drove the demon blade into his side. The demon elbowed him in the face, throwing him back into the wall. Then he gripped the hilt and pulled the blade out, the barest slivers of orange sparks emitting from the wound.

"Well," the demon crooned. "That didn't work."

Castiel didn't have time to wonder  _why_  it hadn't worked, why any of it hadn't worked. All he knew was that the Winchesters' weapons appeared to be useless, so he surged out from the kitchen, angel blade raised. The demon's gaze instantly snapped toward him, eyes flashing with a sneer.

" _Angel_."

He threw an elbow at Dean's face and bulldozed past him, tackling Castiel head on and driving him backward into the cupboards with such force that Castiel's feet left the ground before impact, and he crashed to the floor in a shower of glass. He lay there dazed for a moment, struggling to shake it off.

In his peripheral vision, he saw Sam and Dean make a move to come help, but the demon waved his hand, and the door suddenly slid shut in their faces. They pounded at it with frantic shouts.

There was a small screech of steel as Ryn drew her katana.

The demon turned toward her and made a humming sound in the back of his throat. "Hiya, sweetheart."

Ryn thrust her blade toward him, but he dodged and slammed his head into hers, knocking her back against the sink. Castiel pushed himself up and tackled the demon from the side, attempting to get a blow in with his blade. The demon caught his arm mid strike and used his own momentum to swing him around into Ryn. They caught themselves on the counter, yet before they could regain their balance, the demon shot out both hands, and a concussive whomp of power slammed into them and sent them both sailing backward through the window.

* * *

The door to the kitchen wasn't budging, so Sam and Dean ran out the front in order to go around back from the outside. They barely made it onto the porch before Amy was running up toward them.

"We have a problem!"

"Yeah, we know," Sam said, heart pounding. Their weapons hadn't worked. How the hell hadn't their weapons  _worked_? They hadn't come across a demon this strong since Abaddon!

Amy shook her head and pointed back the way she'd come. "No, demons incoming."

Sure enough, two mooks dressed in suits were striding toward them with murderous intent. Crap, how had Sam and Dean missed those during the reconnaissance earlier?

"Alright." He tapped Dean on the shoulder urgently. "Get to Cas and Ryn. We got this. Go!"

Dean didn't need to be told twice, and went vaulting over the side of the porch railing.

Sam gripped the demon blade—and hoped it'd work on these two. "You ready?"

Amy drew her angel blade and stood shoulder to shoulder with him as the demons charged up the steps. The female meatsuit went for Amy, plowing straight into her and shoving her back into the house. The angel blade clattered to the floorboards.

Sam stabbed his knife toward the male demon coming at him, but brute force caught his arm midair and held it at bay.

"Winchester," the demon sneered.

Sam gritted his teeth and struggled to break free. To the side, Amy raised her knee and delivered a front kick right into the female demon's stomach, doubling her over with a grunt. She then dove for her blade, but the demon was on top of her before she could grab it.

Sam grappled with the other demon, muscles trembling under the strain of keeping himself upright and not having his knife turned against him. The demon growled and wrenched him to the side, tossing him right through the porch railing. He landed in a pile of broken wood in the garden, but luckily with demon knife still in hand.

His attacker leaped at him, and Sam surged upright and thrust the blade between the demon's ribs. There was a scream and spritzing orange light.

Sam jerked his gaze back up to the porch where the female demon was bearing down on Amy, the angel dirk trapped between them and tip waffling between pointing at the demon—and pointing at Amy.

Sam's heart leaped into his throat. "No!"

* * *

Castiel dragged himself across the lawn toward where Ryn was laying dazed in the grass. His entire body was zinging with pain, micro spasms attacking his muscles, particularly in one leg where he'd landed at a bad angle. He'd lost his angel blade in the fall and had no idea where it went, leaving him unable to defend himself as the demon stalked after him, like a lion toying with its prey. Castiel grunted as he pulled himself along on his arms and stomach.

"Been a long time since I've seen an angel," the demon leered. He inhaled deeply, hungrily. "Yeah."

Castiel rolled over in time to see him reach up behind his head. The air shimmered as a spear materialized out of thin air.

The demon turned it over in his hands, silver tip aimed down and glinting in the moonlight. "Ah, but not long enough."

Castiel could do nothing as the demon jabbed the spear down and pierced his side. He cried out under the vicious crack of agony, a burning like being stabbed with dry ice. The moment the spear was wrenched back out, Castiel flipped over and continued trying to crawl away.

"Where do you think you're going, huh?" the demon teased, and then laughed. "Come on," he growled.

Castiel choked on a pained cry as searing fire ripped through him. Shock was shutting down part of his brain, because all he could think was he needed to get away. But this demon was unlike any he'd ever encountered.

Castiel started to collapse in the grass, glacial numbness attacking his limbs. His breaths were coming in sharp, short pants that made his vision blur. But he saw Ryn staggering to her feet and lunging to snatch up her katana from the ground. In an eye blink, flames whooshed up the blade and lit through her eyes. The demon paused in his stalking of Castiel to regard her.

"Well, well, well, what have we here?"

Ryn leaped toward him, flaming sword slashing through the air to meet the spear. The two weapons collided with a clang. Then they broke apart and Ryn was swinging again. The demon danced aside and wielded his spear like a staff, blocking and parrying each attack Ryn threw at him. Almost like he was playing with her, too.

She spun under his swing and slashed at his exposed side, but he twisted away in time. Some of the amusement left his eyes, though, and he swung his spear around, striking once, twice, and finally shoving his entire body weight behind a blow that knocked Ryn off her feet and sent her crashing to the ground with a small cry. Her katana flew from her hand, its flames extinguishing.

The demon sneered and twirled his spear, angling the tip toward her. Castiel clenched his fists and tried to get up, to do  _something_.

There was a sudden revving of an engine and familiar roar, and out of nowhere it seemed, the Impala came charging in like an onyx steed, ramming into the demon and sending him flying. Dean scrambled out of the car and ran to Castiel as Ryn pushed herself up and followed.

Dean's eyes widened as he reached for Castiel's arm. "Cas- shit."

"Where is he?" Castiel desperately asked as he was hauled to his feet. He frantically cast his gaze around, one leg buckling.

"I don't know," Dean said, barely looking and instead focusing on keeping Castiel from collapsing again.

No, they couldn't be caught unawares; the demon was too strong. Castiel grunted and tried to support himself, but he couldn't. His legs weren't responding. Hot blood was pumping out of his stomach and soaking his shirt, and  _something_  felt like it was shredding his insides where he'd been stabbed.

"Come on," Dean urged, slinging Castiel's arm over his shoulder.

Ryn ducked in on Castiel's other side to help brace him. There was no sign of the demon, but they apparently weren't going to wait around to see if he'd come back, and together she and Dean turned toward the nearby field, dragging Castiel into it. He tried to bite down on sounds of pain, but they still managed to tear their way out of his throat with each agonizing step.

"Where's Sam?" Ryn gasped out between harried breaths as they staggered across uneven soil, avoiding ruts and roots by the light of the moon.

"Some other demons crashed the party," Dean grunted. "He and Amy are taking care of them."

Castiel felt a thrill of fear. What if the demons were just like the first one? They needed to go back and help. But he could already tell he was fading fast. There was a throbbing in his belly and hitch in his lungs as his vessel stuttered to keep going. And his grace…was sputtering too.

A whole new terror filled Castiel at that.

There was a rickety barn up ahead, and Dean veered toward it. Castiel let out a strangled grunt as molten fire erupted in his side again.

"Hang on," Dean muttered, and kicked the barn door open.

Castiel choked on another pained sound as he was practically carried inside and deposited heavily on a ratty couch. The puff of sawdust in his face made him grimace, but not as much as the sheer agony in his side.

Ryn crouched down next to him, frantic eyes scanning his injuries. "Why aren't you healing?"

"I tried," he struggled to get out. "Something's wrong." He strained to raise his head enough to look down at his stomach, and picked at the hem of his shirt to lift it. But he couldn't see much through the dark blood still gushing between the jagged fissures in his flesh.

Ryn cursed in Russian and hastily shrugged out of her jacket. "Lift him," she directed to Dean.

Dean grabbed Castiel's shoulders and leaned him forward enough for Ryn to slip the jacket behind him. Castiel couldn't hold back a cry at the movement. His fingers, slick with blood, were shaking too much to grasp anything, and Dean easily moved them away from the wound as Ryn secured the makeshift tourniquet. Castiel gritted his teeth and choked as the fire exploded anew.

"I know, I'm sorry," Ryn said. But she tied the sleeves into a second knot and yanked them tight. Castiel's senses whited out for a few seconds.

They were recalled by a vibrating sound buzzing in the barn.

Dean dug his phone out of his pocket. "Sam."

Castiel's vision was starting to fade, and Ryn's worried face blurred before him, her mouth moving soundlessly. And then everything went dark.


	5. Chapter 5

Amy yanked her angel blade from the demon's chest and let the body fall to the porch, the last of the orange lightning fizzling out. Her shoulders shook with heavy breaths, her hands trembling. The female demon's lax face and vacant eyes gazed sightlessly up at her, not accusing, just…empty.

Amy shifted her gaze to her blade, the edges tinged with only a little blood. Something about demonic essence combusting and cauterizing the meatsuit's wounds. This was her first kill. Well, she'd vanquished the enenra, but that had been an evil spirit. This demon was the first being of solid flesh and bone that Amy had to physically stab with her angel blade and watch die in the throes of fire and brimstone.

And it wasn't like training at all.

Sam came vaulting up the steps. "Are you okay?" he asked breathlessly.

She managed to meet his gaze, and nodded. She wasn't hurt. Maybe in a little shock, but they didn't have time for that, and so she shook it off. "What happened with the other demon?"

Her uncle's jaw ticked and there was a flash of alarm in his eyes that instantly set her on edge. Yet before he could answer, a twig snapped and they whirled toward it. Elijah came around the side of the house. His gaze roved over the broken porch railing and two dead demons swiftly before looking up at them.

"Where did these come from?"

Sam stormed down the steps. "I thought you said demons stayed  _away_  from this place."

"That's what I was told!"

"And what about this demon?" Sam said, thrusting his arm toward the house. "He wasn't hurt by our weapons at all!"

Amy's heart rate kicked up a notch. If the demon hadn't been killed… "Where's Mom and Dad?"

Sam jolted, eyes widening, and he shot a questioning look at Elijah.

"The car is out back," Elijah said. "Engine was still running, but there was no sign of the others."

Amy's pulse stuttered, and Sam blanched in the already white-washed glow from the moon. No way Dean would leave his Baby like that unless…

She bolted down the porch steps and around the side of the house. Sam called after her, but she kept going. Sure enough, the Impala was sitting in the middle of the gravel drive, engine thrumming mildly and the driver's side door hanging open. Amy spun in a circle, scanning the area, but everything else was still and quiet.

Sam came jogging around the corner, the duffel bag of gear slung over his shoulder. Elijah followed several steps behind. Sam threw a questioning look at Amy, and she shook her head. They weren't here.

Mouth pressing into a grim line, Sam pulled out his phone and punched the speed dial. Amy could hear the other line ringing, and then it clicked.

"Sam."

Amy sagged at the sound of her uncle's voice.

"Hey, where are you?" Sam asked urgently.

"Farm down the road. It looks abandoned. Take your first left and drive until you see a barn."

Sam closed his eyes in obvious relief. "Yeah, okay. We're on the way." He frowned. "Are you okay?"

There was a moment's hesitation and then, "No. Cas is hurt bad."

Amy stiffened.

Sam hung up and stuffed his phone in his pocket, then hurried to the car. Amy scrambled in after him, and Elijah had barely climbed into the backseat before the engine was revving and they were lurching down the road.

"What about the demon?" she asked nervously.

Sam's knuckles whitened around the steering wheel. "I don't know."

Amy flitted her gaze around the passing fields and woodland, nerves fraught with tension. But there was no sign of the demon.

Sam found the barn and they pulled up outside. Amy practically tumbled out of the car in her haste to get out, and the three of them burst through the door. Her gaze snapped to the left where her mom and Dean were kneeling next to a low sitting couch, Castiel slumped on it and covered in blood.

Amy's heart dropped into her stomach. "Dad?"

Dean surged to his feet. "Amy, heal him."

She gave herself a sharp shake to get out of her stupor, and hurried over to take Dean's place. The shock of seeing her dad up close stalled her mind again. There were several nicks across one side of his face, and blood had mixed with sweat to trickle down his skin. He was visibly trembling—short, jerky movements that spoke of nerves misfiring. But none of that was as bad as the blood-soaked tourniquet secured around his waist and the crimson painting his hands where they lay useless at his sides, shaking. Pained grunts kept emanating from the back of his throat.

Amy thrust both hands toward his stomach and summoned up her grace, picturing the warm, pulsing sphere and pushing its healing energy into Castiel.

But nothing happened. Her palms glowed with amber power, but the blood didn't disappear and her dad's face continued to scrunch up in pain.

"It's not working. Why isn't it working?" She whipped around, throwing a panicked look at her mom and uncles. They all gazed back with equally stricken expressions.

"We need to get out of here," Elijah spoke up. "If you didn't kill the demon—"

Dean surged forward and shoved Elijah back against the wall. "What the hell did you get us into?"

Elijah glowered, but didn't push back. "I told you this demon was powerful, that all other demons were afraid of him!"

"Then who were those two out front?" Dean yelled.

"Stop!" Ryn shouted, jumping to her feet. "This isn't helping. The demon is still out there and we need to figure this out."

Amy's throat tightened as she looked back at her dad and watched him struggle against what looked like massive waves of pain. She'd only ever seen him injured like this once before, when a creature's venom had prevented his grace from healing him. He hadn't been as bad as this, though, and Amy had been able to heal him with her grace… Why couldn't she now?

She steeled her jaw and moved her hands over his wound to try again. Castiel's blue eyes wavered as he gazed back at her, like he knew it wouldn't work and didn't want her to be disappointed.

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, and she angrily swallowed them back. No. No, this couldn't be happening. There had to be something…

Elijah suddenly let out a sharp hiss and clutched his hand to his chest. There was a fissure along the side of his finger that was smoldering orange, and the point of a rusty nail poking through the wall with a drop of fresh blood. Amy frowned at him in confusion before realization struck.  _No_.

Ryn's eyes widened in horror. "Elijah…"

"It's started," he ground out. "I can't stop it."

Dean gaped at him in bewilderment before he, too, grasped what was happening. "Oh, you've got to be friggin' kidding!"

Elijah's eyes flashed orange with a mirror image of the flames sizzling underneath his skin. "I told you," he growled.

"Where's the thing we came out here for?" Dean demanded. "The thing that's supposed to cure you?"

Elijah was silent for a moment, save for a few muffled groans. "I didn't find it."

Amy stared at him in dismay.  _What_?

Dean thrust a hand toward the door. "Then get back there and keep looking!"

"I searched everywhere," Elijah rejoined sharply. "It wasn't in the house."

Dean looked on the verge of physically attacking him again. "So, not only was your intel on the demon wrong, but he didn't even have what we needed? Cas is bleeding out over there!"

"And I'm about to explode and kill you all," Elijah snapped.

Dean took a step back, eyes turning to steel. "How do we stop it?"

"I  _told_  you, I  _can't_."

"Amala," Castiel gritted out between labored grunts. "You have to fly him somewhere isolated, then get a safe distance away."

Amy threw a harried look between her father and Elijah, not wanting to leave. But Elijah was on the verge of exploding, and that would kill half of them, if not all. She looked at her mom desperately for what to do.

Ryn swallowed, but nodded. "Go."

Amy cast one last look at her dad, pleading with him to be okay. And then she leaped to her feet and rushed to Elijah. Taking his hand, she gave a tremendous flap of her wings and yanked him into the ether.

She didn't go far, though. They were in the middle of a bunch of farmland, and so she landed in a deserted field a few lots over that had recently been tilled. Hopefully the blast wouldn't be larger and the resulting fire could be contained. If it spread to any trees or grass, though…

Elijah stumbled when they landed, clinging to Amy's arm to remain upright. She could feel the heat radiating from him.

"Hold this," he grunted, and shoved an object wrapped in cloth into her hands. " _Don't_  lose it."

Amy blinked in surprise. "What is it?"

Elijah didn't answer; he was already staggering away toward the middle of the pasture. Amy shifted her weight nervously before deciding to fly back several yards to the edge of the lot. She could see Elijah's hunched form glowing with orange cracks as the fire inside him gradually split him into pieces. The macabre sight made her gut cramp and her own inner fire quail at the horror of such a process. And then a guttural scream rent the air.

Amy flinched as Elijah suddenly exploded. A gust of hot air buffeted her face, and she recoiled as flames shot up and out in every direction. It washed across the soil like liquid waves, roaring in the night. Most of it lost momentum before it reached the edge of the field, but other parts were swiftly approaching the tree line. Amy took wing to cross the field in an instant, and shot her hand out to ward off the flames. The tongues of fire bent backward at her will and swam back the other way. She leaped into flight again and stopped some embers from floating into the next pasture.

Soon there was nothing but small fires simmering in dirt patches over a char crusted field. And in the middle was a blackened lump. Amy watched in horror as it began to shift and turn, crispy skin creaking with each small movement. Her gorge rose, and she had to turn away from the sight, even though part of her thought she should try to help. Not that she knew what she could do.

She remembered the weight in her hand, and glanced down at the lumpy shape bundled in a rag. Where had it come from? Had Elijah been carrying it all this time, or…could he gave gotten it from the demon's house? But he'd told them he hadn't found the cure.

Still, as Amy's hands tightened around the object, she noted the familiar shape of a handle and a barrel. Why would Elijah have this wrapped up? And if it was his gun from earlier, why would he tell her not to lose it, like it was extremely valuable?

Her gut was twinging, and she started to unwrap the item. Her breath caught in her throat as she took in the old pistol with a wood handle containing a carved pentagram, and the Latin phrase " _non timebo mala_ " etched into the barrel. This wasn't just any gun. Amy had read John Winchester's journal, had heard the stories.

This was the Colt.

* * *

Dean wanted to punch a wall. Or, more preferably, Elijah's face. But since the guy apparently hadn't been lying about the explosive resurrections at the slightest scratch, bruising him probably wasn't a good idea. Not that things could get worse, since he'd cut himself on a friggin' nail and was currently going nuclear. And now Amy was out there, alone, with a supernatural bomb. What if she didn't get away before Elijah detonated? Someone should have gone with her. But Cas was…

Dean shoved down his fury and went back to the angel, kneeling down next to him. "Let's see," he said, jaw tightening at Cas's distinct lack of healing.

Cas struggled to pull up the hem of his shirt, letting out pained grunts with each minute movement. Cracked black lines were forking out from under the tourniquet where the stab wound was. Dean reared back in horror.

"Alright. Okay. Yeah, yeah, yeah." He took the rim of the shirt from Cas's shaking hand and folded it back down as Cas gritted his teeth in pain. "No, hey, you know what? I've had worse."

"Oh yeah? When?" Cas grunted.

Dean swallowed hard. Okay, he hadn't. And this…shit, he'd never seen anything like it. Why hadn't Amy been able to heal him?

"Dean, something's wrong," Cas said haltingly. "I think the…I think the demon's s-spear was poisoned. I don't…" He gasped. "I- I think I'm dying."

Dean instantly shook his head in refusal. "No." He lifted his gaze to the ceiling. "Gabriel! Gabriel get down here!"

"Gabriel!" Sam chimed in.

They waited a beat, but nothing happened.

"Gabriel, dammit, we need you!" Dean yelled. "Why the hell isn't he answering?"

Ryn shook her head and looked to Cas, whose brow had creased with concern, but then he craned his head back under a pained spasm.

"You idiots," a familiar voice lambasted.

They whirled around to find none other than Crowley standing in the barn with them.

The King of Hell skewered them all with a murderous glower. "You're all going to die."

Dean stood up in disbelief. "Well, this day just keeps gettin' better," he grumbled.

"Crowley?" Sam sputtered.

"What are you doing here?" Ryn asked.

Crowley glared at them scathingly.

"Wait a second," Sam interrupted before Crowley could answer. "The demons. They were  _yours_."

"Obviously."

Ryn quirked a questioning look at him. "Why?"

"You're all…" Crowley let out a vexed sound. "Do you know what you've done?" When they didn't answer, he went on trenchantly, "Does the name Ramiel mean anything to you?"

"No," Dean and Sam said at the same time.

"Yes."

They spun to look at Cas.

"What?" Sam said dubiously.

Cas's throat bobbed as he fought for the breath to speak. "Ramiel, Prince of Hell."

Dean's brows rose sharply.

"Ramiel, Prince of Hell," Crowley repeated. "It's catchy, it rhymes. And he's going to kill each and every one of you."

Wait,  _that_  was the demon they'd tried and failed to kill?

"No," Cas said forcefully. "The Princes are all dead."

Crowley sighed. "That's what we told people to stop them looking. But in reality, not so much."

Dean held up a hand. "What the hell is a Prince of…Hell?" He grimaced.

"The oldest of the old demons," Crowley replied. "The first generation after Lilith. Lucifer turned them himself—before the oceans drank Atlantis."

"They were trained to be generals, to lead demonic armies in the war against Heaven," Cas added breathlessly.

Well, crap on toast.

"Wait," Sam spoke up. "After Lilith…you mean like Azazel?"

Dean flinched in dawning horror.

Crowley shrugged. "They even have his eyes."

Dean mentally reeled back. No wonder the demon blade and devil's traps hadn't worked on him.

How the  _hell_  could Elijah not have known they were going after a Prince of Hell!

"My demons were there to keep people away from Ramiel," Crowley continued. "Believe me, that's a hornet's nest you do not want to be kicking."

"Too late," Dean retorted.

"What happened to Cas?" Sam asked, gesturing to the angel that was still bleeding out on the sofa.

Crowley narrowed his gaze a fraction in consideration. "You tell me."

"He was stabbed with a silver-tipped spear," Ryn said. "There was rune work etched into the blade and staff, but I didn't get a good enough look at what kind. It held up against my sigiled katana, with fire."

Crowley's expression slackened in dismay, then resignation. "It's not a spear," he said softly. "It's a lance. The Lance of Michael."

"Michael," Dean repeated dumbly. "As in  _Michael_  Michael?" The archangel had a friggin' lance? What the hell did he need a Michael Sword for, then?

Crowley nodded. "Nasty bit of business. Kills everything it touches. If you're a demon, you go up in a puff of smoke. If you're an angel…" He gave Cas a regretful look. "You just…rot away."

Dean glanced at Cas, who lifted eyes brimming over with terror, and the sight crushed his heart like a vice. Ryn went and knelt down next to him, reaching out to touch his shoulder as her own eyes wavered.

Dean shook his head at Crowley. "No. No, there's a cure. There's always a cure, and we will find it."

"How?" he scoffed.

"We trap Ramiel," Sam said immediately.

"And we beat his ass until he gives it up," Dean finished.

Crowley rolled his eyes. "It's not gonna work."

"We took down the Darkness," Sam argued. "And the Devil."

"It took you  _years_  to defeat Lucifer, and the combined powers of Heaven and Hell to stop the Darkness." He rolled his shoulder and hedged, "Maybe if you had more time, you could manage Ramiel. But right now, in this barn…" Crowley looked at Cas and shrugged helplessly. "Sorry, Castiel."

"Shut up," Dean snapped, shaking his head and raising a finger in helpless fury. "Shut up. We don't have time, okay, for your- for you. So either help us or get the hell out of here!"

Crowley gave him a bland look, and then promptly disappeared.

Dean snorted. "Yeah, figures." The King of Hell might help them out from time to time, but only when it served his own needs.

Cas groaned and started coughing.

Dean turned toward him. "Cas, how bad is it?" he asked, dread constricting his chest.

Cas whimpered as he strained to lift an arm to his tie, tugging it loose and pulling his collar down. The black fissures had already spread up his torso to his chest and shoulder, and were currently working on wrapping up around his neck. Too fast; it was moving too damn fast.

Cas writhed in pain and his hand flopped down to his side. "Crowley's right," he grunted. "I can…feel it. The poison."

"Can you burn it out?" Sam asked Ryn.

Her expression pinched as she studied the necrosis currently eating away at Cas's insides. She shook her head. "It's gone too deep too fast. I could just as likely kill him."

"Then Ramiel's our only option," Dean said resolutely. Especially if they couldn't get a hold of Gabriel, for whatever reason. And of course they had to send their one remaining winged player off with Pyro, when they should have thought to send Amy up to Heaven to get the archangel. If anyone else knew how to cure the stupid Lance of Michael, it'd be Gabriel.

"Dean," Cas whispered, and lifted watery eyes to theirs, chin quivering with too much emotion. "Please. Please, don't sacrifice yourselves."

"We are not giving up," Dean growled.

"You need to find Amy," Cas pressed. "Before she comes back. She can't…I don't want her to watch…"

Dean's blood turned to ice in his veins. "I am not telling your daughter that we left you here to die."

Cas closed his eyes, tears streaming down grimy cheeks. He had everything to live for and everything to die for.

But so did the rest of them.

Dean caught Ryn's gaze and jerked his head as he moved a few feet away. She and Sam moved into a huddle.

"So what's the play?" she asked in a low voice.

Dean steeled his jaw. "We hit him with everything we got."


	6. Chapter 6

Amy stared at the legendary Colt in her hands. How did Elijah have this? The gun known to kill all but five supernatural beings had been lost in the Apocalypse a decade ago. Unless…this demon had it all this time. But if so, why had Elijah grabbed it while he was searching for the artifact he said could cure him? Too many questions were swirling through her mind and Amy was having trouble processing them.

Elijah stumbled toward her, two-thirds of his body covered in charred flesh as embers sluggishly crawled down his limbs to regenerate muscle and tissue. He clumsily reached for the Colt.

Amy stepped back. "What are you doing with this?" she demanded.

His eyes glowed with inner flames and she could sense the fire burbling under the surface. "I need it," he said, voice raspy from singed vocal cords still repairing themselves.

"This is what you stole from the demon?" she asked incredulously. "I thought you were looking for a cure for  _this_!" Her eyes swept over the lava-like fissures in his body that were slowly yet steadily piecing him back together from ash and bone as they stood in the middle of a burned field.

"This is my cure!"

Amy reeled back, stunned.

Elijah took another staggered step toward her. "The only thing known to kill a phoenix," he went on. "To finally put an end to my excruciating existence."

Amy stared at him in horror. That had been his plan all along? To kill himself? "Why didn't you tell us the truth? We can help you find a real cure! We have resources—"

"Yes, your Men of Letters," Elijah snarled. "Why would I trust the ones who tortured me into this wretched state?"

Amy blinked. "What? No, that's not…we didn't."

"You've allied yourselves with them," he hissed, bearing down on her. She stumbled back in shock. "For all I know, you thought you could cure me simply to turn me over again."

"No! Look, the Men of Letters died out decades ago. Sam and Dean are legacies, but they were never part of any experiments. None of us were! Mom's a phoenix too!" She nearly tripped as she backpedaled, the acrid stench of charred flesh infiltrating her nose the closer Elijah pressed.

He finally stopped, his eyes blazing red in the milky moonlight. "I don't trust you." He paused. "But I need you. The demon didn't have any bullets for the Colt. But the Men of Letters would know how to make some."

Amy's brows rose sharply. "We're not going to help you commit suicide!" She shook her head in growing franticness. "I need to get back to the others. My dad's hurt."

Elijah lashed out a hand to grip her arm, his smoldering palm burning through her sleeve to sear her skin. Amy screamed and doubled over, but his hold was unyielding.

"You  _will_  help me," he growled.

Amy managed to lift her head, eyes watering through the pain, and snapped, " _No_."

His face smoothed into a chilling stillness. "We'll see about that."

And then he reached his other hand up to grab her throat, and Amy screamed again under his scorching touch. The Colt slipped from her fingers to clunk on the ground. Fiery pain speared through her, blotting out her vision with darkness.

* * *

Dean pulled out an angel blade from the gear bag and gripped it tightly. Ryn had her katana, which she wasn't sure would work against a Prince of Hell, but she hadn't gotten a good enough hit in the first time to know for certain. Dean doubted the efficacy of his angel blade, too, but maybe with their combined attacks, they could actually take this Ramiel down.

Sam was pouring holy oil in a circle. Hopefully that would work better than the devil's trap. As in, work at all.

Dean glanced at Cas. The angel was pale, save for the Stygian lines crawling up the side of his face. He'd stopped making pained sounds a few minutes ago, but that didn't give Dean a sense of relief, because the crooked barbs digging into Cas's neck made it look like he just didn't have the voice anymore, that the poison was already disintegrating his lungs. His muscles were still twitching, his eyes half-lidded and glazing over.

Ryn went and knelt next to him, brushing some sweaty hair away from his forehead. "Stay with me," she whispered.

His gaze briefly flicked up to hers, pupils dilated with pain and chest hitching.

Dean's throat tightened, and he turned to exchange a fraught look with Sam. This had to work.

They were just finishing getting ready when a shrill cry shattered the night and a body came crashing through the barn door in a shower of broken planks and splinters. Dean gaped in stupefaction as Crowley slammed into a tractor and landed unconscious in the dirt. What the…

He turned just as the demon casually stepped over the wood shards. With an almost indifferent mien, Ramiel roved his gaze over the lot of them as he strolled into the barn, eyes lingering for a moment on Cas. Dean clenched his fist around the hilt of his blade. Sam pulled out his lighter.

Ramiel came to a stop, and Sam dropped the lighter. The flame ignited the ring of holy oil, a band of fire whooshing across the ground in two arcs until they collided on the opposite side. The demon gave the flames an unperturbed look.

"Mm, toasty."

Dean raised his head and started to stalk around the circle of holy fire. "You stabbed our friend."

"Your friend was trespassing," he replied blandly.

Sam paced along the opposite side. "Tell us how to cure him."

Ramiel glanced at Cas, then back at them. "There is no cure."

Dean refused to believe that. Not after everything they'd faced in their lives, everything they'd overcome. They were not going to be beaten by the likes of  _this_.

"You have any idea who we are?" he demanded.

Ramiel sneered at him. "I don't care. I don't care who you are. I don't care why you're here. I don't care about Heaven or Hell or anything. All I wanted was to be left alone." He paused. "But then you come. You… _steal_  from me. And that? Ooh. That I cannot abide."

Dean's jaw hardened, and he silently cursed that Elijah had gotten them into this mess.

Ramiel pulled out a pocket watch and opened the clasp, exhaling audibly as though in preparation of something. "Give me back what's mine, or I take it off your lifeless bodies. You've got…thirty seconds." He held up the watch and clicked the ticker.

Dean furrowed his brow. Give what back? Yes, they'd come to steal something, but Elijah said he hadn't found it. Unless…the son-of-a-bitch had lied.

"Twenty seconds."

Dean glanced at Sam and Ryn. What were they supposed to do? They didn't have what the demon wanted. Not that giving it back would spare them; Dean knew better than to expect that.

The seconds ticked by far too quickly, and then Ramiel stopped the watch and chuckled. "Have it your way."

He pocketed the timepiece, and reached up behind his head. The air shimmered as a silver spear took shape, and Dean's eyes widened as the demon drew the Lance of Michael and raised it high. Before they could react, Ramiel slammed it down to strike the ground, and a concussive force threw Dean, Sam, and Ryn off their feet. The resultant gust of power also extinguished the holy fire.

Dean scrambled to his feet, but Sam was up first and charging Ramiel. The demon jabbed him in the stomach with the butt of the lance, and he fell backward. Dean threw himself at the demon, angel blade raised. Ramiel elbowed him in the face, followed by a blow with the flat of the spear, and Dean went pitching backward to hit the ground.

He saw Ryn leap forward with her katana, and the two supernatural weapons clashed with a discordant clang. But Ramiel blocked the strike and spun around, catching her in the shoulder and throwing her several feet away. Sam jumped back in and caught the lance with his angel blade, but the move locked his weapon in place, and he couldn't break free to avoid getting punched in the stomach.

Dean snatched up a shovel and swung it at the demon. The mundane tool didn't even faze him, and he caught the handle to wrest it from Dean's grasp. Ramiel then struck him in the chest, forcing the air from his lungs, and flung him backward against a structural post. While Dean wheezed in an effort to catch his breath, Ramiel raised the tip of his spear to align with his heart.

Sam darted in from the side, grabbing the lance with both hands and yanking it away. Ryn attacked from the other side and drove her flaming katana into Ramiel's shoulder, which finally drew a bellow of pain and rage from the Prince of Hell, but he wasn't going down. He twisted toward her, murderous fury blazing in his eyes.

And then Sam thrust the lance right between his ribs.

There was a soft gasp, and Ramiel shot both hands up to clutch at the staff as he glanced down at it. He started to laugh, and for a split moment of horror, Dean thought it hadn't done a damn thing, that this demon was invincible.

But then Ramiel threw his head back with a startled cry…and exploded into a cloud of black smoke and dust.

Sam jerked back with a gasp, shoulders heaving as he gaped dumbly. Dean also stared in dismay. They'd done it. They'd taken down a Prince of Hell.

But that meant…

Cas let out a brutal, guttural scream that speared Dean's heart.

Sam threw the lance down and rushed over, dropping down in front of Cas and reaching for him desperately. "Cas. Hey, buddy. Hey, we're here, Cas."

Dean and Ryn were a second behind him, the three of them crowding around the couch. Dean reeled back, though, as black goo began bubbling out of Cas's mouth, choking him from the inside out.  _No, no, no_.

"We're right here, buddy," Sam continued to ramble, squeezing Cas's knee as his leg and body spasmed, eyes rolling back in sheer terror and agony. He couldn't breathe; he obviously couldn't breathe and neither could Dean as he watched in helpless horror.

"Hang in there, alright?" Sam urged, then shot a frantic look at Dean. "What do we do?"

Dean dropped his gaze in abject defeat, because he didn't know. He'd failed to find the cure, and now their brother was dying and there wasn't a damn thing he could do to stop it.

Tears streamed down Ryn's cheeks as she clutched at Cas's arm so tightly her knuckles were white. But Cas was slipping away, his movements stalling out, eyes dimming. Dean wanted to scream.

_Gabriel!_

A flash of blinding light erupted behind him, and he instinctively ducked, throwing an arm up to shield his eyes. Sam and Ryn also flinched, but the blazing aura was too intense to make out what the hell was happening, if they were under attack or if Ramiel had somehow made a surprise comeback.

But it was neither of those things. There was a secondary illumination from Cas that filled his eyes and mouth, yet before Dean could think this was it, this was an angel's final death throe, the light receded, and Cas was blinking dazedly, the black goo gone.

Dean turned a flummoxed look over his shoulder, expecting the archangel to have finally arrived with a bang like he preferred, but instead he found Crowley standing there, holding two broken pieces of the Lance of Michael.

The King of Hell gave them an equally taken aback look. "The magic's in the craftsmanship," he said, as if that explained everything. Which, it didn't.

Dean whipped back around, desperate hope cracking his voice. "Cas?"

Cas's clothes were still covered in blood, but it was gone from his face, as were the poisonous veins. Cas continued to look shellshocked, but he was  _alive_ , and apparently no longer dying.

"Oh, you're welcome," Crowley added, and dropped the broken lance to the ground as he disappeared.

* * *

Castiel continued to blink in sluggish astonishment as he gazed down at himself. The blood-soaked tourniquet was still cinched tightly around his waist, but his stomach no longer burned with the stab wound, nor did he feel the cracks in his skin splitting him apart piece by piece. His throat was clear and there was blessed crisp oxygen filling his lungs without impediment.

He could still taste it, though, still taste the putrid decomposition of his own organs surging up into his mouth. His chest hitched with the remembered terror of dying in such a horrible, excruciating manner. Castiel had faced death before; he was a warrior, a soldier of God, after all. But this time…he'd clung with every fiber of his being to holding on because he hadn't wanted to die, hadn't wanted to leave his family. And he almost had.

He choked on a hiccoughed breath, panic setting in again as he gagged on the phantom acid in the back of his throat. And then Ryn was climbing over his lap and pressing her mouth to his. He couldn't react, mind frozen on the cloying tang on his tongue, but a spark tingled across his lips, and suddenly the flavors of cinnamon and woodsmoke were banishing the taste of death. Warmth seeped back into his chilled cheeks and spread out, soothing his seized muscles and nerves. Only after Castiel sagged into the cushion did she break away.

Ryn dropped her forehead against his. "I thought I'd lost you again," she breathed.

Castiel finally found the strength to lift his arms and rub her shoulders. "I apparently have more lives than a cat," he said, voice hoarse. He swallowed hard, and was relieved that the sensation of liquefied insides didn't return.

She let out a strangled laugh, and finally pushed herself off him. Sam and Dean were standing over him now, expressions slack with disbelief. They reached their hands out at the same time and took Castiel's, and together hauled him up in one swift movement. His head swam at suddenly being vertical, but Sam and Dean kept a hold of him, eyes worriedly looking him up and down.

"So, you're good?" Dean asked.

Castiel nodded. He was still shaken, but his wounds had healed.

Sam's face broke into a giddy grin, and he squeezed Castiel's shoulder.

Castiel inhaled deeply and collected himself. "We need to find Amy and Elijah."

That sobered their relief. Dean went to quickly collect their gear, while Sam kept a hand on Castiel's elbow as they made their way out of the barn—only to pull up short at the sight of Elijah standing near the Impala. He was wearing a pair of overalls with a shirt whose sleeves were riding up his wrists a few inches, and his feet were bare. Castiel could sense the power simmering beneath the surface as it gradually resettled into a dormant, yet still volatile, state.

Elijah arched a brow at him. "You pulled through."

"No thanks to you," Dean growled. "And you told us you didn't find the artifact you were looking for, but the demon seemed pretty certain something had been stolen from him. Care to explain that?"

Castiel frowned as he looked around. "Where's Amy?"

Dean stiffened, and cast a frantic look around as well, but there was no sign of her.

"She's somewhere safe," Elijah said nonchalantly. "For now."

"Excuse me? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means if you ever want to see her again, you're going to make me some special bullets for this gun."

Castiel's eyes widened incredulously as Elijah lifted none other than the Colt. "How did you…?"

"Wait," Sam spluttered. "Is  _that_  what you stole from Ramiel?"

Elijah turned the gun back and forth to examine it. "Yes."

"Elijah," Ryn said, voice breaking with the devastation of hurt and betrayal. "Why? We were helping you!"

"How can I trust you when you've allied yourself with the people who did this to me!" he raged.

Ryn reeled back. "What are you talking about?"

"The Men of Letters," Elijah spat. "You claimed not to know I existed, but maybe you sold me out to them."

Her mouth dropped open. "What?  _No_."

"Elijah," Sam urged, "Are you talking about Magnus? He was a rogue Man of Letters, kicked out for his unorthodox practices."

"Enough! You will make me bullets for this gun or never see little Amy again."

"Why do you need the Colt?" Castiel asked, his mind awhirl trying to figure out what Elijah had done to Amy. Because surely he couldn't actually contain her somewhere…

Elijah's eyes flickered with a touch of madness as he turned his gaze to the pistol. "This is my cure. The thing that will finally end my suffering."

"You want to die?" Dean snapped. "Tell me where Amy is and I'll still be happy to put a bullet between your eyes."

Elijah's gaze flashed darkly. "I don't trust you not to hand me back to those who did this to me. And I will  _never_  go back. So, are you going to comply, or not?"

Ryn took a step forward, her voice coming out low. "Elijah, where is my daughter?"

He lifted his chin defiantly. "Somewhere she won't be getting out of on her own. You see, I picked up a few things about binding an angel. Do you know what it's like to anticipate an eternity being imprisoned? I assure you, after some point, it becomes very difficult to hold onto one's sanity."

Castiel clenched his fists, the urge to swoop over and force Elijah to tell them where Amy was coursing through his veins. But he was still weakened by his recent ordeal with the lance, and he suspected that no amount of pain could compare with what Elijah had already endured. He was right; madness was all that was left to him.

Castiel looked to the others as they all shared grim expressions. What choice did they have?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter after this.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update. I've been really sick again. =/ So my responses to comments may be delayed, but just know you all have my gratitude and thanks for following along with this story and taking the time to leave comments!

Amy slammed her fists against the stone slab pressing down only inches from her face. "Let me out!"

The granite was unyielding, and she could feel the pressure of sigils scratched into the lid locking down her grace and numbing her wings to the point she couldn't just fly out of the sarcophagus. A choked sob pushed past her lips as she gave one last weak pound.

" _Please_."

She dropped her arms to her sides, the iron chains she was bound in clinking at the movement. The air was too close and stifling, and the pile of bones she'd woken up next to made her skin shiver. How had it all gone so wrong? They were trying to help Elijah, and he'd turned on them.

Amy reached up to gently touch her neck where the burns were slowly healing, but that progress had stopped the moment Elijah had put those sigils into the coffin's lid to disable her grace. She'd heard him carving into the stone, had begged him not to do this, but he'd ignored her, and then eventually left her alone and in utter silence, save for her own ragged breathing.

She squeezed her eyes shut against welling tears and tried to focus on slowing her breaths. She technically didn't need the oxygen to survive, but it would help keep her head clear if she didn't start hyperventilating and use it all up. She needed to get out of here. Her family was in trouble and she needed to help them.

But how? She was firmly bound, and she doubted anyone was around to hear her calling for help. Would Elijah come back for her after he got what he wanted? She couldn't count on that, though. Couldn't count on her family being able to find her, either, not with her dad grievously hurt and possibly dying.

No, she had to get herself out of this. She just had to  _think_.

Amy tried to tease her grace into action, but it quavered under the strength of the sigils. She bit her lip and almost broke down again, but barely managed to keep it together. What else was available?

She craned her neck and tried to see in the dark if there was anything on the skeleton's remains that she could use to pick the lock on her chains. They weren't hurting her that much, just stinging at the contact, but it'd help to have less restricted range of motion. She could tell it was iron, and figured Elijah thought he was binding her phoenix half, too, but she wasn't fully vulnerable to the metal because of her angel grace.

Wait…her phoenix half wasn't bound. There had to be a way to use that.

Amy took a steadying breath and closed her eyes, extending her senses upward toward the sigils. It made her stomach cramp and sweat break out across her forehead, but she didn't recoil. Instead, she focused on coaxing her inner fire to the surface. Blue flames flickered along her fingertips, and she reached up to touch the lid, pouring every ounce of willpower into pushing the blue tongues  _through_  the stone and out the other side. She envisioned the sigils that were binding her, knowing exactly which ones they were, and imagined her fire burning across their lines and neutralizing them.

She heard a snap and pop above, followed by a crackling sound. Some of the pressure on her chest began to ease up.

Hope surged through her anew, and she poured more power into the flames. With one final sizzle, the last of the sigils burned through, and Amy's grace flared to life with an explosive force that shattered the iron chain links and blew the stone lid of the sarcophagus clear off.

She scrambled out of the coffin, tumbling over the edge and onto the floor in a haze of dust that clogged her nose and throat. But she was free.

Amy straightened and snapped her wings taut with a crackle of sapphire electricity that sent shadows skittering across the crypt.

Time to save her family.

* * *

Ryn held her arms tightly around herself as Sam performed the ritual that would make a special bullet meant for the Colt. After Elijah had blackmailed them into doing it, they'd gone back to Ramiel's house, thinking the Prince of Hell likely had various spell ingredients on hand. He did. None of them wanted to even think of heading back to the bunker with Amy out there somewhere, possibly hurt.

Ryn shot a blistering look at Elijah, who was standing in the open front door as though keeping an escape option open. He clutched the Colt to his chest almost protectively as he watched Sam with hungry eyes. Ryn had felt sorry for him, had felt a kinship and yearning to help. And on some level, she still knew that Elijah's derangement had stemmed from the atrocities he'd been subjected to.

But he'd threatened her family, had almost gotten her husband killed, and had taken her daughter. There was no forgiving that.

Castiel untied her jacket from his waist and let the bloodied article fall on the floor. His clothes were still stained crimson, evidence of his still recovering grace. But his eyes crackled with the promise of divine retribution if they didn't get Amy back in one piece.

"Just one?" Elijah asked as Sam placed a single silver bullet from their supplies into a bowl.

"You need more than one to get the job done?" Dean retorted.

Elijah's lip curved upward, but he didn't say anything else.

A muscle in Sam's jaw ticked as he coated the bullet in holy oil, sage, and myrrh. " _Signum est imitandum. Signum est imitandum_ ," he incanted, infusing the bullet with the same call of power that had been on the originals Samuel Colt had made when he'd fashioned the supernatural weapon.

There was a pop and fizzle, and tendril of smoke. Sam lifted the bullet out of the bowl.

"That's it?" Elijah asked dubiously.

"Yeah," Sam said stiffly.

"Give it to me."

Sam glanced at Dean, but carefully moved closer, holding out the bullet. Elijah snatched it out of his hand and quickly backed up. He then turned on his heel and marched out the door.

Ryn's heart gave a jolt as they all hurried after him, yet were careful to maintain a moderate distance. "Elijah," she called. "You got what you wanted. Now tell us where Amy is."

He stopped in the middle of the backyard and turned around, fumbling to insert the bullet into the chamber. The moment he got it, an eerie calm came over him.

"I think not."

Ryn stiffened.

"We had a deal!" Dean shouted.

Elijah glared at them coldly. "I may not be able to take revenge on those who tortured and experimented on me, so I'll settle on hurting you. You are, after all, Men of Letters."

"You've only got one bullet," Sam pointed out. "You can't kill us all."

"I don't need to. I'd rather you live with the horror of losing the thing most precious to you. Knowing that she's alive out there, but trapped forever, will have to be enough for me." He raised the Colt to his head.

Dean whipped out his gun and fired, shooting Elijah's hand and causing him to drop the pistol. He threw his head back and screamed. Fire exploded in his broken hand, flames branching through his veins and splitting his skin open. Orange light flashed in his eyes.

"No!" he shrieked, and dove for the Colt.

Dean shot him again, this time in the shoulder, and the impact threw him back a step. The flames of rebirth were igniting, pulsing like a volcanic eruption about to break the surface.

Elijah screamed in rage and agony, tongues of fire spurting from his mouth. He whirled toward them and roared, belching flames like a dragon.

Ryn stepped in front of the others and thrust her palms out, summoning up her own spark. The sweltering heat slammed against her, but washed up and over the barrier she'd erected to deflect it. In the crackling glow, fiery wings arched up behind her back, shielding Castiel and the Winchesters.

Elijah started stumbling toward them, perhaps intent on taking them out after all. He only made it a few feet before his next scream was cut off in the resultant explosion, and the wall of fire cascaded toward them. Ryn's blood quickened, the song of the phoenix reaching out to her.

But Elijah's chords were twisted and mutilated, a screeching wail that sang of pain and suffering and destruction. Ryn gathered her power as the Alpha, and pushed every ounce of volatile energy back toward the source. The fires reared back in a convective arc, crashing down upon Elijah all at once. There was a concussive whomp, and Ryn felt the moment his aura was devoured in his own ruination.

The flames extinguished instantly, and she dropped her arms to her sides. There wasn't even a body left, everything in a five-foot radius completely incinerated.

She shot a hand up to her throat. What did she do? She whirled toward Castiel. "Amy."

There was a flutter of wing beats, and Amy landed in the middle of the yard, breathing heavily and looking harried. "There you are," she exclaimed. "I went back to the barn but you were gone, and then I saw the explosion…" Her eyes widened. "Dad!"

And then she was running forward and throwing her arms around Castiel's neck.

"I'm all right," he told her, squeezing back and cupping the back of her head. He pulled away and looked her over. "Are you hurt?" His eyes narrowed, and he reached out to brush some of her hair away from her neck.

Amy winced. "Oh, yeah. I'm okay, though. It's better than it was."

Ryn's stomach churned at the burn marks on her daughter's throat, able to imagine exactly how they'd gotten there.

Amy spun around. "Elijah! He's…" She trailed off and canted her head at the blackened circle in the dirt. "Um, right there?"

Dean went over and nudged the ashes with the toe of his boot. "He gonna pop up like a daisy?"

Ryn's chest constricted. "No. He's gone for good."

Amy let out a long breath, but then jerked ramrod straight again. "What about the demon?"

"Him too," Dean answered.

She quirked a brow at them. "So I missed both fights, huh?"

Sam came over to give her a hug. "Looks like you had one all on your own."

Castiel reached out and lightly touched her shoulder, and the burns healed a little bit more. He still gave her an aggrieved look, and Ryn knew he wished he could do more, but Amy's phoenix half inhibited straight angelic healing. At least that same half would heal her faster on its own.

"Where were you?" Castiel asked. "Elijah said he'd put you somewhere you'd never escape from."

Amy huffed and lifted her chin. "I bet he thought that." She faltered, though, and bit her lip. "He, uh, put me in a crypt and drew sigils around it so I couldn't get out."

Sam frowned. "Then how did you?"

"I used my phoenix fire to burn them off."

His brows rose in a look of appreciation, and Amy asked what happened with the demon and how Castiel was healed.

Ryn moved away from them and went to stand at the edge of the burnt circle. A few feet to her right, Dean bent down and picked up the Colt, which had somehow miraculously escaped the blast. He turned to give her a considering look.

"You didn't trust Elijah from the start," she said in a low voice. "What was it? What was it that I missed?"

Dean didn't respond for a moment, but then shook his head. "Nothing."

Ryn let out a derisive snort. "Come on, Dean. I endangered our entire family over this. Put Elijah above the rest of you. You've every right to be pissed. So why not let me have it?"

His expression contained nothing but sympathy. "This wasn't your fault. I get it. He was family."

"No, he wasn't," she whispered.

"But he could have been." Dean moved closer. "He was blood, and family don't end there, but it includes it. Of course you wanted to help him. That's what makes you a good person."

She flicked a wry look at him. Why couldn't he have been this understanding from the start? Not that it mattered; it wouldn't have changed things.

"I'm sorry it ended this way," he went on.

Ryn dropped her gaze back to the ground. "Me too."

She bowed her head and allowed herself a moment to grieve for Elijah, who had been driven mad by heinous cruelty, and was too far gone by the time Ryn had found him. She couldn't have saved him, and, in the end, his death was a mercy.

She turned back to the rest of her family, who had grown quiet, apparently having finished filling each other in, and now they were looking at her with pained miens.

Ryn went over and gave her daughter a fierce hug, so relieved and proud that she was okay. Castiel smiled at them, and she opened her arms for him to come in too. He enveloped them both, tucking Ryn close and pressing a kiss to the side of her head. She breathed in the blend of ozone and embers with a shudder of gratitude; she'd almost lost them both tonight, and the horror was still all too fresh.

But they'd come through the other side, just like they always did.

Just like they always would.

* * *

Arthur Ketch stood at the end of the old farm road and lowered a pair of binoculars. Well, that had certainly been an interesting and unexpected display.

He pulled out his cell phone and hit one of the speed dials. The other line instantly clicked.

"The asset was lost," he reported, going on before he could be upbraided for his failure to recapture it. "But tell the Old Men I've found something much better."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh-oh... ;P Third sequel, coming up next!


End file.
